


It Doesn't Matter Which You Heard

by Zoya1416



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Broken Hallelujah, Jeff Buckley., Leonard Cohen., M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6995857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's friends have chosen a wedding song which puzzles him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Doesn't Matter Which You Heard

Nightingale noted for the third time that morning that Peter wasn't paying any attention to his Latin lesson. It was harder and harder to snap at him, mostly because “Peter! Focus!” was becoming less effective. He decided to break off.

“Peter. You're not concentrating on your work at all this morning. Do you have a reason for that?”

Peter did look at him then, surprised. 

“I'm sorry, sir. It's this stupid song.” He quieted again, and Nightingale decided to wait him out.

“It's my friend—Jase from school. He married an American girl and they sent me a video of the wedding. One of the songs—seemed so wrong, for a wedding. Hallelujah.” He fiddled with his phone, with a brooding expression. 

Even though Nightingale had been an atheist before he finished Casterbrook, some works still had visceral resonance, and the Messiah was one of them. They sang it every year, and he'd even done a treble recitative:

“I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand  
at the latter day upon the earth.  
And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.  
For now is Christ risen from the dead, the first fruits of them that sleep.”

He'd never believed it even then. Definitely not one he'd pick, not that he had ever planned on getting married. Even though it was legal now...his duties prevented him.

He supposed that the wedding song had included other lyrics:

“For unto us a child is born, a son is given,” being most appropriate. They certainly couldn't sing the whole thing for the wedding, although Americans and their churches...

“The Hallelujah Chorus? Not the whole oratorio, surely.”

“What? Don't they sing that at Christmas or something?” Peter smiled wryly at that. “Well, that would have been better, I suppose, but, no, this is a different one.”

He'd got used to phones which could play music, so he asked, “Play it for me, then?” 

He hoped he could understand the lyrics, and also hoped they wouldn't be too crude. Not that Peter intentionally played crude songs, it was mostly that—when he started becoming younger again, he'd listened to modern songs, from every decade, but they didn't speak to him at all. As far as he could tell, lyrics had become optional, dancing was the intention, and many of them advocated drugs, casual sex, and violence. He had no desire to listen to more.

This wasn't a joyous song, and he saw why Peter didn't think it was right for a wedding. Part of him, not a happy part, resounded to the lines:

“I've seen your flag on the Marble Arch,  
But love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.”

That brought—it reminded him about the end of the War, and at what desperate costs victory had been won, which almost made him miss the next lyrics. They were—raw—but that was modern song for you.

“Remember when I moved in you  
And the holy dove was moving too,  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah."

This was today's world, he reminded himself. Nothing left unexposed. Although he liked the line about “every breath we drew.” It had been exactly that unforgettable way with a few boys, although he'd never imagined singing about it. 

It continued to be mournful, with the next verse, and he held back a shudder. Americans and their guns...

“But all I've ever learned from love  
Was to shoot somebody who outdrew ya."

Oh, David...he'd never forgotten when they had to break down the door of the lab, either.

And in the next verse the song ended.

“It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah”  
With multiple repeated “Hallelujahs.” 

He looked at Peter, whose perplexity he could now understand.

“You're right. It seems most unusual for a wedding.”

Peter picked up the phone, and after fiddling with a few tiny buttons, said, “Yeah, I texted him, and he said their DJ had suggested it. But see, here's the thing. This song has so many versions—the original lyrics had so many verses that some were cut out. These are the extra, original ones.” He touched buttons again.

Even though Nightingale had been an atheist since before the war, something in him responded to the last lines,

“And even though it all went wrong  
I'll stand before the Lord of Song  
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah”

It sounded like the early Christian training he'd had, to stand before God at the Judgment of Heaven—but the singer was confident here, even when it all went wrong. It was a much more hopeful ending, and he wondered why it had been cut by later singers.

Then he recalled something—

“The next to last verse, Peter, play that again.”

“There's a blaze of light in every word  
It doesn't matter which you heard  
The holy or the broken Hallelujah.”

Every word. Every word in a lifetime had worth, whether it had been tragic or incandescent. And here he found something to say:

“That—is beautiful. If I were ever—to marry—”and he barely stopped himself from looking at the beautiful man standing next to him. “I would like that. But—” now able to summon a bit of a smile in his voice, “But if you are to avoid blowing up the lab, again, it had better be the right words.”

Peter responded to his tone with his lips twitching, “I'll just get back to the Latin, shall I?”

**Author's Note:**

> I was at a family wedding recently which used the Jeff Buckley Hallelujah. (Broke me down completely.) Apparently it's becoming more common. It's quite interesting how the Buckley version, which has become standard, omitted the last verses of Cohen's original.
> 
> The recessional march, however--was the Imperial March from Star Wars.


End file.
